The OC Way
by ThroughTheMonsoon
Summary: George is sick, and Fred finds out what this sickness is called. Written at the crack of dawn. Please don't kill me. I will edit this or delete it as soon as I can.


**A/N: **This is probably the most horrible fanfic I've written my whole career. Probably due to my drooping eyes and mental disorders, lol. But if I have time, I'll try and change this, okay? **Dedicated to Cheska Olmos.**

**WARNING/S: **OOC-ness, stuff, stuff and different stuff.

**DISCLAIMER: **Harry Potter is owned by the lovely, awesome and fantasticacious JK Rowling. All rights are hers and hers alone, I own nothing.

**THE OC WAY**

**By ThroughTheMonsoon**

* * *

><p>"Ew, Fred, don't get your dirty shoes on my side of the room."<p>

"What side of the room?"

George pointed to an imaginary line in the middle of the room. "_This _side of the room!"

"You have no side of the room! Everything is ours, remember?"

"Oh, yeah? Well, what about _my _bed?"

"What bed?"

"_That_ bed!"

"That's _our _bed! We _share _it!"

The twins argued on until the cows came home, which they only ever did in private. Because in public, they're totally inseparable.

Fred kicked off his shoes, which ricocheted off the wall towards the neat study table, and flopped down on the pile of freshly-laundered clothes.

"_Fred!_"

"What is it now, Georgey?"

"Don't just kick your shoes off! Why can't you put them on the space provided?"

"What space-"

"_The space provided!_" George drew an air square around the shoe-designated area in their room.

"But-"

"And why can't you hang your jacket on the coat hanger? And why can't you comb your hair?" The freaked-out twin snatched a comb and gripped his brother's jaw, combing back the messed-up locks half-harshly. "You can't even wash your hands before touching the doorknob!"

"Oh, George," Fred laughed weakly as his twin wrestled him and finally settled on sitting on his stomach while the latter held his face and tried to weed out the tangled hair.

"Why are you laughing? I'm serious about these things!"

"It's funny."

"What is?"

"How you can handle all the muck we do when we're not in private."

"Because I _need _to! Being 'overly dramatic' about things doesn't mean I can't be a prankster like you anymore."

"Since when did you have this…sickness again?"

"It's not a sickness! And I've had it for so long, haven't you noticed?"

George huffed, crawling off his brother to sit on a chair he conjured out of nowhere. Oh, that's right. They were wizards.

"Aww," Fred cooed, running a hand through his hair to see that everything has been untangled and combed into place.

Harry, Ron and Hermione, who had to always be together like someone cast a Permanent Sticking Charm on their butts, knocked on the door, entered, then had the honorary guest to speak. "Hey Fred, George."

"Hey, Harry," the twins chorused.

"Dinner's ready, Mrs. Weasley's waiting."

Fred waved him off. "Yeah, sure, tell her-"

"-we'll be down soon!" George stood up.

Hermione chose that moment to speak. "And she said no Apparating into the kitchen."

"And she said no drawing on the walls, right, Hermione? Because you still can't draw," whispered Fred.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

The Golden Trio huddled off downstairs.

Fred stood up as well, dusting off the hairs yanked out of his head by the comb.

"No!" George groaned.

"What now?"

"You're ruining the new carpet I made out of those materials we got from Hagrid's!"

"Ah, we'll clean that up."

The twins caught up to the trio on the stairs. Fred, having the ideas he has, patted Harry on the head, and pulled on Hermione's sleeve.

"You both grew up with the Muggle lot, right?"

"Yeah," the two said in unison.

"Is there a sickness about something like being too concerned about being neat or paranoid about being clean?"

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"No reason. Just…curious," Fred shrugged.

"Well, there's this thing called OCD," Hermione supplied a few seconds after.

The hotter (if I may say so myself) redhead blinked. "OCD?"

"Yeah. Stands for Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. If I remember correctly, my mum's sister has that illness," Harry shared, thinking of Aunt Petunia and her nightly wipe-down of every kitchen surface.

"OCD, eh?"

"Yeah."

Fred turned back to his brother with that trademark mischievous grin. "Heard that, George? There's an illness for those kinds of people, too! The Muggle World has everything!"

George resisted the urge to jibberify his brother's recent statement.

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><p>At dinner, George continues a silent, half-unnoticeable way of OCD-fying his plate, fork, knife and spoon.<p>

"George, what are you doing?" Mr. Weasley said as he noticed a slight shift in his son's position.

"Doing it the OC way," Fred replied with a grin.

Everyone almost had tangible question marks overhead, but George just growled.


End file.
